Getting A Job
by BarbaraKaterina
Summary: For all his care for Sherlock, Mycroft Holmes is not a nice man. And so when someone shoots his brother and almost kills him, Mycroft wants words...and they aren't nice words. /-/-/ A missing scene from HLV, spoilers for season 3. A sort-of sequel to Making A Deal, but works perfectly well as a standalone too.


AN: Another talk that had to happen, another deal that didn't have to be made – but Mycroft would have done _something_, and this seemed like the most reasonable option.

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As soon as it was established that Sherlock would live, Mycroft sent a car for Mary Watson – or, as he was more inclined to call her at the moment, Alice Raleigh-Anderson.

This time, he had no qualms about the brutality of his kidnapping. He didn't take particular care that she be seated comfortably either.

When she came to herself, the look in her eye was once more one of resignation, but much more pronounced this time.

"I was under the impression," Mycroft started, deceptively calm, "that we had an...understanding?"

The woman just looked at him. "You know I could have killed him straight out."

"Yes. I also know you could have delivered much less dangerous a shot, with the same results."

"True."

"So, knowing what would be the consequences of Sherlock dying...why didn't you?" He was actually curious. He had thought he understood this woman.

"I think," she said, "because partly, I wanted him to die."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know what the mission was. You know exactly what was at stake. You know what he ruined. And he dragged John into in, into this of all cases!"

"These are all emotional reasons. They are understandable enough, but from what I know about you, you don't usually decide that emotionally."

"Obviously, there were logical reasons too. Both decisions had emotion and logic going for them, really. I wanted to kill Sherlock because I was angry with him, and because if I let him live, there was probability so high it was bordering on certainty that he'd tell John. I wanted to let him live because his death would hurt John, and I do rather like him, and you'd kill me if he died."

Mycroft smiled a little at this. "Do you honestly think I would have just killed you, if Sherlock had died by your hand?"

"Yes. Because you wouldn't want to unnecessarily hurt John, as Sherlock's friend."

"You seem to have misunderstood the dynamics here, my dear. I care for John as long as Sherlock is alive, because if something happened to John, it would affect my brother greatly. If Sherlock was dead, on the other hand...I quite like your husband, really, but certainly not more than I'd want to punish my brother's murderer. No, dear Alice, if Sherlock had died tonight, I would have told John everything and had you watch, and then I would have had you killed...slowly." He smiled pleasantly. "So, really, it is rather lucky that he didn't die, isn't it? Why did you decide on that particular course of action, tell me?"

Mary Watson has gone rather white, but overly was holding herself admirably as she answered: "I simply elected to leave it to chance. I picked a point on his body that had about fifty percent chance of killing him if I shot him there, and I fired. It seemed the best way to take into account both sides of the argument."

"Hmm. I see. Interesting."

There was a long silence.

"As I've already pointed out," Mycroft said, then, "the fact that Sherlock lives – though I am happy with that, don't take me wrong – rather limits my options as far as your punishment goes. But don't imagine for a moment that you'll go unpunished. I cannot kill you, physically hurt you much – and you wouldn't care about the little things – I cannot make you leave John. However, there is one thing I can take from you without making your husband and Sherlock unhappy, and I will." He paused, and watched her slight apprehension. "You quit your old job for a reason. And though you're bored sometimes, overly, you were glad that you did. Well, let me tell you that that period of quiet bliss is over. From now on, you're back to your old profession...but you're working for me. As our friend Magnussen would say, I own you. You will stay married to John and friends with Sherlock – if they still want you to, that is – but even that will be on my terms. You will report to me in detail. Your main job will be protecting Sherlock, naturally – I know you'd have done that anyway, but I want you to do that with rather more single-mindedness. You're going to be on maternity leave soon, after all, so you'll have plenty of time." He let his mouth widen into a smile to indicate he was aware of the absurdity of his last words, and added: "Don't worry, I'm willing to cover the cost of a babysitter."

Another pause, and then Mycroft continued. "All of your free time will belong to me. You will do whatever I tell you to do – do not concern yourself, I won't ask you to hurt John in any way, for obvious reasons. But...when you went to kill Magnussen, you did so on your own terms, playing by your own rules. Your future work for me will be nothing like this. If I tell you to do some job in a manner you consider absurd or impossible, you will nevertheless do it that way. I will, of course, be interested in your professional opinion, but if I still think that my way is the way to go, then you'll obey. I will give you some reprieve until your delivery – till then, it will be only about Sherlock protection – but expect to start working in earnest after your six-week rest period is over."

He paused long enough to let it sink in, then added pleasantly: "Any questions?"

"Will you purposely give me assignments in such a manner as to raise the chances of me dying in your services?" She asked, very calmly.

He frowned slightly. "No. That would rather defeat the object, wouldn't it? If I wanted you dead, I'd kill you now. I want you to be of use, if I can't kill you, for the reasons we've discussed."

She shrugged. "Yes, I know it would defeat the object, but you wouldn't be the first one to vent your frustration that way."

"I'm not the Commonwealth, as my brother would say."

"Aren't you?"

Mycroft smiled a little. "Not in this way, anyway." He tilted his head. "I must say your control is admirable. I knew there was a reason I liked you."

She blinked. "I have to admit that this is not the occasion when I'd expect you to express this particular sentiment, if I expected you to express it at all."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I have great respect for you professionally. Your final solution to Sherlock's...intrusion was a little too chaotic for my liking, but there actually isn't anything I could fault you with about it, objectively speaking, it's only that it wouldn't be my style. I think you are excellent at your job, and a very loyal wife. It just so happens that we have different priorities – mine is Sherlock and yours is John. Usually, these two are in harmony, but occasionally they cross, and sometimes, like today, they cross with devastating results. That isn't precisely your fault. That doesn't mean I won't punish you – obviously, I need to do my best to ensure that if you ever face a similar dilemma again, you'll tend to choose the alternative in which you don't face my wrath. Incidentally, sine I was quite descriptive today and you will soon have another weakness," he indicated her belly with his eyes, "I believe that shouldn't be a problem. Anyway, I'm sure you see why I need to do that – it's following my own interest. There isn't really anything personal about this."

She looked doubtful

"Oh, please, feel free to express yourself. I'm going to punish you for not following my orders, not for being disrespectful – even though you do work for me, I'm sure it's clear to you that it's not exactly the kind of professional relationship that requires 'sir' after every sentence." No, it was the kind of professional relationship that entailed regular death and torture threats. These two approaches didn't really go well together for some reason, he knew from experience.

"I just thought that you talking to me today, apart from the obvious practical effect, also achieved the additional one of you releasing some of your anger," Mary Watson ventured.

Another of Mycroft's insincere smiles. Still, he'd better explain – it made future communication easier. So he said: "Certainly. But that anger is not entirely with you. Some of it was – but your explanation set most of it to rest. The idea that you didn't know what you were doing made me furious," he admitted calmly, because there was no point in trying to convince this woman of all people that he was indifferent to his brother's circumstances, "but now that I know you knew exactly, I'm not really angry with you any more. There isn't any reason – you followed your personal priorities in a rational matter. I am angry with Sherlock, mainly, and," he hesitated here, but well, it did allow him to reiterate his point, so he continued, "a little with myself – I'm sure there was a way to prevent this, if only by being more descriptive the first time I met you, so that it was clearer to you what kind of fate awaited you if you killed Sherlock. So yes, I have vented my anger, but that doesn't mean I don't like you." As much as he was capable of liking anyone except his own family, anyway.

Mary Watson smiled at him. It wasn't really a warm smile, or a nice one, but it was sincere nevertheless, in its strange coldness. "You know," she said. "I think I might even enjoy working for you. You seem much more reasonable than my previous boss."

Given what he'd just threatened her with, that really said something about Langley. "Don't count your chicken before they are hatched," he chided. "Besides, we wouldn't want that, would we? Then I'd have to think of a different punishment..."

"In that case, I will do my best to seem properly traumatized by my work," she said as she rose to leave.

"Oh, I trust that won't be a problem," Mycroft replied as he opened the door for her.

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AN: It should be said that I got the inspiration for Mary's "leave it to chance" approach in Loten's Chasing the Sun, though it's used in very different circumstances there. (It's a Harry Potter SSHG story and if you're into that fandom and mysteriously haven't read it yet, go do that right now, it's brilliant.)

Also, I have to admit that for some reason, I really love the idea of Mycroft declaring, in that clam, pleasant voice of his, that he was "furious".


End file.
